


Hold Your Peace

by kasarin



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasarin/pseuds/kasarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruhi's wedding day. Told first from Hikaru's point of view, then Kaoru's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hold Your Peace

Haruhi's wedding is a simple affair, by society's standards. Close friends and family only, though even this is more than most; Tamaki calls so many his friends, after all, and there are certain people who must be invited in order to avoid offense. Her dress is another matter altogether. A Hitachiin design, custom-made for her, it accentuates her beauty in a way that makes even the Host Club members wonder how she was ever mistaken for a male.  
  
Hikaru thinks that she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Words still in his mouth, and it's Kaoru who does most of the speaking for them. The elder twin watches, and he wishes —  _desperately_  wishes — that it could be he that she turns that radiant, loving smile upon. That it could be he she pledges her life to.  
  
He says nothing, when the priest asks for any objections. Years of practice have finally beaten his temper into submission, and he keeps a tight rein on it. But when Kaoru takes his hand, he squeezes tight enough to hurt, lowering his head to hide his face from any wandering eyes.  
  
At the reception, he laughs. He jokes, he teases, he keeps up the devilish face that all present know so well. Haruhi looks at him a bit oddly, a question in those beautiful brown eyes. He grins a bit wider and takes another sip of wine, then another and another, until his restraint finally slips and he leans in a bit too close. Alcohol taints his breath as he tells her that he's happy she's happy, and the brush of lips against her forehead is far from accidental. But then raw emotion bubbles beneath the surface, and he pushes it down with another laugh and another drink, mischievous smirk firmly supporting his claim that the action was meant only to get a rise out of Tamaki. It does, and the ensuing commotion provides excellent cover from the stark honesty of Haruhi's eyes.  
  
She knows that he's lying. He never could hide his heart from her.  
  
When they leave, it's with Hikaru's arm over Kaoru's shoulders, his twin supporting much of the elder's unsteady weight. The ride back is silent, as is the journey to their shared room; a childish thing, to still share a room, but something they could never bring themselves to let go of. Hikaru drops onto his bed fully clothed, face buried in the pillows and the smell of wine sticking in his nose. He feels a little tug on his feet, allows Kaoru to take off his shoes without protest. Small things, performed silently; his brother getting him ready for bed, while Hikaru's mind crawls from one alcohol-numbed thought to the next.  
  
It's not until Kaoru abruptly stops and climbs into the bed beside him that Hikaru realizes he's crying. He turns, clinging to his brother like when they were children, and Kaoru tries his best to soothe him. But the soft words and murmured assurances barely penetrate the fog of grief, and in the end, all Kaoru can do is hold his brother's shaking form.  
  
Hikaru has never liked to lose. But never before has he, in losing, also felt a part of himself slip away.


	2. Hold The Pieces

Haruhi's wedding is, by the standards of high society, a small and simple affair. Family, friends, and friends of the family only, though Kaoru suspects the latter category is larger than Haruhi would like. There's little that can be done, however; Tamaki is a Suoh, and certain unwritten rules (more rigid than many written ones) must be followed.  
  
She doesn't seem to mind, as she greets them before the ceremony. She's already in her dress, tugging awkwardly at the fabric like she doesn't think it belongs on her skin. Kaoru can't help smiling at the unconscious movements, remembering how uncomfortable she's always found dresses.  
  
Beside him, Hikaru takes a breath which he doesn't release. A quick glance from the corner of his eyes confirms Kaoru's suspicions; Hikaru's staring at Haruhi with nothing short of wonder, emotions so thinly veiled that Kaoru wonders if he's about to confess his love yet again.  
  
He doesn't give his brother a chance. Quickly stepping in, he speaks for them both, complimenting the dress (which prompts a vague nod from Hikaru) and thanking Haruhi for the invitation. She laughs, sincere and honest as always, and Kaoru quickly wraps up the conversation, ushering his too-quiet (too-enthralled) brother from the room.  
  
He wonders if Hikaru realizes how obviously spellbound he appears. He doubts it. They've grown older, yes, but Hikaru is no less oblivious.  
  
The ceremony is, by all accounts, a beautiful one. Kaoru doesn't see most of it. His eyes are on his brother, watching the practiced restraint on his face as the only woman that he — that  _they_  — ever loved gives herself to one of their closest friends.  
  
Kaoru takes his twin's hand, and Hikaru ducks his head, squeezing far too tightly as his composure strains and trembles. He keeps holding his hand until the reception begins, at which time Hikaru replaces that hold with one on a glass of wine.  
  
Kaoru follows suit. When does he not? He sips enough to avoid suspicion, and he joins Hikaru in laughing and joking, all the while taking careful note of the color rising high in his brother's cheeks. Hikaru's getting sloppier, more unrestrained, and Kaoru knows that he should step in quickly....  
  
But he's not quick enough to prevent the brush of lips against Haruhi's forehead, or to stop Hikaru from whispering in her ear with all the intimacy of a lover.  
  
Hikaru laughs it off. He takes another drink, excuses it as goading Tamaki, and the guests accept the trickster's smirk at face value. But Haruhi watches him with sorrow in her eyes, and Honey grows quiet (Mori even more so). They all know, and Kaoru is almost glad that Hikaru's senses are so dulled by alcohol. His brother never could stand to be pitied.  
  
"Will Hika-chan be alright?" Honey breaks the silence to ask. Kaoru finishes his glass and grabs two more; one for him, one for his brother. Then he goes to join him. He can't answer Honey; he doesn't know the answer himself.  
  
When they leave, it's with Kaoru supporting his brother's weight, only his familiarity with Hikaru's every move preventing it from being a drunken stumble. He keeps them looking merely tipsy, and he loads his silent sibling into their car with only minor difficulty. The ride back is silent, but for their driver's cursory greetings; were it not for Hikaru's breathing, Kaoru might have suspected him of falling asleep.  
  
The trek to their room is an unsteady one. Hikaru's coordination has failed him almost entirely, and it's only thanks to Kaoru that he makes it to his bed. There he lies, still and silent, and Kaoru takes a deep breath.  
  
He's never seen his brother look so ... defeated. He shouldn't look like this. He shouldn't radiate such raw pain through the slump of his shoulders alone. He shouldn't....  
  
Kaoru clenches his jaw, and he begins taking off Hikaru's shoes, trying to get his brother ready for bed. When they wake, he tells himself, his twin won't look quite so lost. He won't look as though his emotions have been rubbed raw and are bleeding up through his skin. They'll gather themselves up, and they'll move on together, just as they always have. Just as Hikaru said they always could.  
  
When they begin, the sobs aren't quiet, nor are they restrained. Kaoru drops everything and crawls onto the bed, one slender hand gently grasping his brother's shoulder. Hikaru rolls onto his side and all but throws himself at Kaoru, clutching him around the middle and sobbing into his chest like a child. Worse than a child, Kaoru knows; they never cried like this when they were children. Not unless they were faking it.  
  
But there's nothing fake about the tears soaking into his dress shirt. Nor is there anything fake about those staining the younger twin's face.  
  
Distantly, Kaoru wonders why it is that, on the happiest day of their closest friends' lives, he and his twin have been left to clutch at shattered pieces.


End file.
